The Secret of Zorro This Is Your Family Chapter One, Two and Three by Ella Christian @1999-2002 Contact author at EllaChristian@aol.com Chapter One New Beginnings The early months of the year 1822 were never forgotten in Los Angeles nor in the de la Vega family. It was in February of that year that Enrique Monastario, once the proud commandante of the pueblo, briefly re-appeared after six years in disgrace. Though his visit was fleeting, he wreaked his vengeful havoc on El Zorro by causing the death of the Fox's famous black horse, Tornado. Monastario was not seen again after disappearing in the flash flood that only Diego de la Vega and Benicio Bocca lived to report. On the night Benicio told his tale to the citizens of Los Angeles in the pueblo Tavern, El Zorro appeared on the great white horse that came quickly to be known in the pueblo as "Phantom." From that night, Zorro was again active in the pueblo, appearing swiftly and surely if a hint of injustice slithered its way into Sergeant Garcia's lonely oversight. Everyone knew that, with the Mexican government formed and the treaty with Spain to take over California signed, the Mexicans would eventually send their own officers to take over the cuartel. No one knew when. At the de la Vega hacienda, a deep quiet prevailed for the remainder of the winter. Don Alejandro buried himself in correspondence related to the First Bank of Los Angeles, and to sorting out cattle sales that had been delayed while the rain and swollen streams pounded new arroyos into the land all winter long. His sole passion, aside from dealing with the bank and the rancho's business, was his little granddaughter Esperanza Matilde. As she approached her first birthday, she seemed to grow and change every day. Alejandro de la Vega was not about to miss a moment of it. Their morning and afternoon visits to the duck pond were a ritual that everyone in the hacienda quickly learned could not be compromised no matter who was in town or what item of business required meticulous and timely attention. Nothing generated a vivid scene from Don Alejandro faster than the suggestion that perhaps "the constitutional" might best be delayed. On one such sunny afternoon, Alejandro plunked his little granddaughter onto a blanket by the pond and played with her, as he always did, counting the ducks. "Do you see, Ranza?" he asked her, "the mother duck has her five little ducklings out there on the pond. When I was a young boy, I used to count many, many ducks here sometimes. And your Papa did the same thing when he was a muchacho. It is a family tradition that you must now carry on." The baby pointed at the pond. "Duck!' she exclaimed. The birds began to paddle in the other direction. "That is right, those are ducks," Alejandro said. "I shall have to tell your Mommie and Daddy that you said a new word today!" Esperanza giggled and grabbed at his sleeve. She pulled herself towards him, crawling into his lap where he sat. "Ah, I see you want to be held," Alejandro laughed. "Well, I can do that." The baby squirmed around in his arms to get another view of the ducks. "Duck!" she exclaimed. She patted her grandfather's nose. "Mah, mah," she said. "Do you want your Mommie?" Alejandro asked. "Don't you want to stay here with your Papito for a while?" "Chocho," she said. "Oh, Ranza, you do not want Chocho!" he scolded with a smile. "He is far away at Casa Matteo, buying cows or counting his horses, I imagine!" He lifted her up in the air and down again, making her laugh. "We will go to Chocho's for supper one night this week, and he will let you look at your Grandmama's dolls." Esperanza looked again at the ducks and pointed. Alejandro looked, but could see nothing new. He looked back at the baby. Her eyes were bright and hazel, with long dark lashes. She had thick, deep brown hair curling all over her head in soft waves. She was, he saw anew each day, a little female replica of his son at this age. It was only her pert nose and the slightly almond shape to her eyes that revealed her mother in her making. "How you favor your grandmama," he said to her softly. "Just as your Papa does." Esperanza looked back at him and smiled, her dimples deepening. "Pah," she said to him, reaching for his nose. Alejandro made a face, dodging her quick little hand. "Do you know, when I was a little boy, this pond was all there was to this land?" he asked her. "It was my papa, Ignacio, who came from Spain and built our hacienda. He was your great grandpapa, Papito's papa." He put his hand on his chest, indicating himself. Esperanza patted his hand. "Pah," she said. "When he came to California he brought my mami, Milana." He sighed, thinking of his mother. "She was very special," he confided to the wide-eyed baby. "She died when I was six, Ranza. We have had bad luck in our family, for your Papa's mami also died when she was young, and when he was not much more than a little boy." He smiled. "But it will be different with your Mommie, she is very strong and she will outlive us all, I think." Esperanza giggled. "Mah," she said. She reached up and managed to pinch one of her grandfather's eyebrows. Again he dodged her with a smile, but not before feeling the pinch. "She is back at the hacienda, sweetheart," he said. "You know she never lets me take you very far away." He adjusted the baby in his lap. "So, when my Mami died, my Papa and I worked on this land for a long time. Then he met another lady whose name was Crescencia. And do you know he married her?" Esperanza's eyes widened, responding to his indignant tone. "She was very young and pretty," he explained, "and after a while she also had a little boy that she and Papa named Francisco. And we all lived here at the hacienda together for many years." "Pah," Esperanza said to him. "Papito,'" Alejandro encouraged her. "Pah, pah," she said again. "Keep trying," he sighed. "So, we had our hacienda and my Papa was very good at breeding cattle and horses. We were given a great deal of land by the King of Spain, and we did our very best at making the most of all that we had. That is how it is that you are a member of such a good family. My papa made the most of his heritage, and then he built a good life for the de la Vegas here in California." He looked out across the pond again, beyond the stiff cattails in the marsh, and towards the hills. "But California has surprises sometimes, Ranza. Once in a while, the earth moves. And one night when my Papa was sitting in the old pueblo de los Angeles, the earth moved, and a wall fell down. It hurt him so much that he could not get well, so he went to heaven to be with my Mami and the angels." "Mah," Esperanza said, patting his face again. "Yes, and I missed him very much, and I will tell you a secret: I did not care for Crescencia, my Papa's wife. So I was not very happy for a while. Then Crescencia decided to return to Spain and she took Francisco with her, and I never saw either of them again." Esperanza made a bubbling sound. The ducks were reapproaching them in the water. "Of course, as his first son there was no disputing who the rancho belonged to, after my Papa died in the earthquake. So after Crescencia and Francisco left, I was free to do what I wished and think about starting my own family at Rancho de la Vega." Esperanza squirmed again and tried to get to her feet. Alejandro helped her stand up and then held her under the arms lightly, while she toddled slightly in front of him. "I worked the rancho for six years. Then the first great miracle of my life occurred. I met your grandmama, Matilde! Oh, Ranza, I had never seen a more beautiful girl in my life! She lived in San Francisco. I met her at a great ball in Monterey, with many other young dons, and all of us wanted to dance with her! But I knew from the moment I laid eyes on her that I would conquer all of California to make her mine." He rubbed noses with the baby. "And I got my wish. She rounded up all of her horses and moved here to Los Angeles, and less than a year later, my second big miracle happened: we had your Papa! And this was our home." He waved across the land in front of Esperanza. "Pah!" Esperanza shouted. The ducks turned and started paddling away again. The baby squealed and the ducks sped up in their retreat across the pond. "Shhhh, you will scare the ducks back into the marsh," Alejandro said to her softly. He stood up and swung her into the air. Esperanza squealed again in glee. He brought her back down, and faced the pond again. "Can you wave adios to the ducks?" he asked. The baby made a little waving motion. "Duck," she said softly. "That is very good, sweetheart," he said. "They are going into the marsh now. Just like your grandmama went away from us, oh, Ranza...those were sad years..." his voice trailed off. He cleared his throat. "But then after a while, we had yet another miracle, when Chocho and your Mommie came to Los Angeles. And your Daddy just went upside down over how pretty she was!" he swung the baby up again and swooped her down, nearly upside down, before righting her as she laughed. "That is when Chocho and I conspired to do some very important matchmaking! And it worked!" He tickled her lightly, making her laugh. "So they got married!" Esperanza giggled wildly, trying to wriggle away from his tickling. He let up, laughing with her. "And then came the biggest miracle of all, when your Mommie brought you into the world." He gave the baby a big, noisy kiss on her cheek. "When Maria put you in my arms when you were less than five minutes old, I knew I had the most wonderful treasure of my life right here," he hugged her and kissed her again. "There will never be anyone else like you," he whispered to her. "You are in a place all by yourself in my heart." "Duck!" she exclaimed. Once again, she made him laugh * * * * * * It was clear that the baby loved her grandpapa back. As she grew, everyone in the household, and eventually everyone in the community, came to see how exceptionally devoted the two were to one another. Elizabeth and Diego would simply raise their hands in helpless amusement whenever Alejandro entered the room and their daughter instantly lost interest in them in favor of her "Papito." Their bond vexed Elizabeth's father, Carlos, to no end. But even "Chocho" could not lose his good humor when he saw "that pair," as he called them, marching off to the duck pond. Alejandro and Carlos, to the amazement of everyone in the family, kept peace in spite of their ongoing competition about everything, including their granddaughter. "They manage. At least most of the time," Elizabeth was prone to qualify. The remainder of the winter was tender and mysterious for Elizabeth and Diego. The coincidence of timing that left them bereft of a second child and Diego robbed of the horse he so loved proved to be a source not only of grief but of finding new solace in one another. A shift in their relationship occurred without either of them orchestrating it. Until their time of sorrow, the job of one spouse comforting the other fell almost exclusively to Diego, who hid his deepest feelings in a place so private that even his dear young wife was excluded. But the loss of Tornado in the Santa Susanna Pass, combined with Elizabeth's presumed miscarriage, left Diego a more mature and more vulnerable man. These events, combined with being handed a previously undiscovered letter from his mother, unlocked a gateway into his heart which at last allowed Elizabeth to be present in the sadness her husband had so long carried alone. In the weeks immediately after their losses, his new openness made itself known mostly through their physical bonding, which took on a near holy silence as they comforted one another. During their long afternoon siestas, Diego at last talked at length with his wife about his mother, and how terrible life had become after she died. Elizabeth listened, and held him, and prayed that in God's mercy her beloved would at last be freed from the grief he had carried alone for so long. They began to spend more time together. Elizabeth always saw him off when he left to ride as El Zorro, and waited up for him until he returned so that he always had her to talk and snuggle with when his good deeds were done. They worked persistently together on training Elizabeth's pregnant young mare, Blanca. Nearly every day they stole time in the hidden canyon with Phantom, El Zorro's new steed. Phantom was proving to be downright entertaining. He seemed to understand that he had to win the affection and trust of his new rider. Whoever had cared for him in the years between his two stints as Monastario's steed apparently had a sense of humor, for the young de la Vegas discovered that Phantom did tricks and genuinely liked human companionship. The tricks emerged accidentally, starting with an afternoon when Elizabeth clapped for Esperanza over a word she said and the horse suddenly rose up on his hind legs and did a little dance. Elizabeth waited, then clapped again. Again, he rose up and did his little dance. She and Diego then began trying other small things to find out what the horse could do, and discovered he would run in a circle with a good series of whistles, and that on command he would count to three with his hoof. They wondered often what they might discover next. "He has a crush on you," Diego teased his wife repeatedly. The horse would whinny whenever he first saw her, and would nudge her insistently with his nose until she scratched behind his ears and whispered to him that he was a very handsome fellow. "Do not listen to her," Diego would warn him. "She tells me the same thing." "I think this is a smart horse," Elizabeth replied to Diego one afternoon. "He suspects that the way to your heart is through me." Diego considered that and said, "Then he is a smart horse indeed. But it is for El Zorro that he must be at his best." "He knows," Elizabeth answered back, a twinkle in her eye. Then she clapped three times and the stallion, with a shake of his thick, long mane, rose up on his hind legs for his short, elegant two-footed dance in the dirt. It was also there in the canyon, while Phantom munched grass and Esperanza played on a blanket under Bernardo's watchful eye, that Diego continued to teach Elizabeth to fence. She took it seriously and made impressive progress. It was in these days and weeks, as the light slowly lengthened and spring approached, that they began telling stories every night when it was Esperanza's bedtime. After Maria bathed her, Diego would pick up the baby and bring her into their room, plunk her in the middle of the bed, and play with her. Elizabeth would join them after her own bath. Then the three of them would cuddle up. Diego and Elizabeth took turns telling their daughter stories. While the excuse was that it was never too soon to tell Esperanza tales from both sides of her family, Elizabeth knew that in fact they were telling their childhood stories to one another. It was in this way that, along with the unexpected antics of the white stallion, laughter began to creep back into their daily life. * * * * * * "We never had time for these stories, until now," Diego remarked to his wife one night. They had put Esperanza to bed after Elizabeth told her story of dancing barefoot in the snow on Christmas night in Boston. "I got in terrible trouble, and my toes were numb for days. But it was beeeyoooooteeefulllll!" she had teased the baby, saying her last word in English. Esperanza squealed and clapped at her mother's rendering of "beautiful" and said "beeeee, beeeeee" many times in response. This had the entire little family laughing and clapping heartily, for Elizabeth and Diego both thought Esperanza's newfound ability to clap her hands was utterly delightful. Now, after the baby was tucked in her own bed next door, Diego cuddled his wife gently as they lay stretched out together in the candlelight. It was the end of March, nearly two months since the terrible events in the Santa Susanna Pass. "We have not really had all that much time together, when something big wasn't going on," Elizabeth agreed. "It has been one thing after another, since the very beginning." "Which was right around now, wasn't it?" Diego asked her. He ran the tip of his forefinger over the outside of her ear very slowly. He thought she had the most beautiful ears on earth. She thought. "Si, it was late March when Daddy and I came here, two years ago. The spring was beginning, I remember. Oh, how I remember the enchantment of seeing the jicaranda trees in bloom for the first time, and all the wildflowers in the desert. Truly I thought I was in paradise." Diego smiled slowly at her. She smiled back. "Little did I know what paradise lay ahead," she laughed softly. She nuzzled her nose against his collarbone. He gave her a sweet kiss, but then settled back again, holding her. She snuggled against him, one hand stroking his chest with its jumble of thick, dark, curly hair. Her other hand rested on his solid upper thigh. "That is nice..." Diego murmured, as he felt her hand settle on his leg. "Do you miss your family, in Boston?" he asked. "Si, of course I miss them, or at least what is left of them," Elizabeth answered. "I have not heard from my aunts since Christmas, which is very strange. Usually I get a letter every month. I hope they are all right." "I am sure they are," Diego said, suppressing a yawn. He put his nose in her silky hair and ran his hand over the back of her head. "I wonder if you will ever meet them." "I hope so," he said. He slid further down into the bed, pulling her with him. "Blow out the candle, seņora. We are going to get you up on Blanca again tomorrow, but I imagine we will be exhausted before it is over with. I have never run into a horse who is as unpredictable as this one." "Oh, no," Elizabeth said confidently. "Tomorrow she is going to mind. I know it." He leaned across her and blew out the candle himself. The conversation continued in the dark. "You say that every night." "But I am right tonight." "You say that every night too." There was a long pause and the sounds of covers rustling and bodies adjusting in the bed. "I have it," Elizabeth said. There was another pause. "There, that's good," he said. "Oh, that is very good!" He sounded slightly surprised. "Ah...ow...ah..." "You must put a positive wish into my success with her instead of just telling me she will remain stubborn forever," Elizabeth said. "You are the one who bought her for me. You are the one who wanted me to have a fine horse. Thank you for the fine horse, my love. Now will you help me turn her into a riding horse instead of a horse to admire?" "I wanted to train her last summer when you would not!" Diego protested. Then he added, suddenly a little breathless "oh, sweetheart...that is a new spot, right between my....ah! Oh, my..." he sounded a little breathless. "I was still very busy with Esperanza last summer," Elizabeth continued. "I was not used to her then. I could not tend to a horse and a baby at the same time. Now I am used to both of them and they are..." "Oh, Liz," he groaned. "I cannot talk horses or babies when you are doing this to my....." "Shhhhhh," she said. They were quiet for a while. Sheets rustled again. Elizabeth sighed softly. Diego groaned. "I thought you liked that," she said. "I do," he answered. "Don't you recognize a....oh, that's...oh.... happy groan?" "Like this?" "Any way you want to....oh, oh sweet Liz. Oh, right there, put the pressure right..." "This is better than dancing barefoot in the snow?" she giggled. "Oh much better," he sighed. "And much warmer, too." They were quiet again for a while. Diego sighed loudly. They grew still. Then more shifting around of sheets and bodies occurred in the darkness. After that it was quiet again. "Is that good?" he asked softly. "Mmmmmm," she moaned. "No more talking." He laughed. "You were talking with me! About Blanca! And dancing in the snow!" "Hush, Diego...oh....shhhhhh. Let me enjoy this." Then it was silent for some time in the room, except for Elizabeth's occasional happy moans. Finally she sighed, "Ohhh...We should do that more often." "We do it nearly every night!" he snorted. He paused, and then said, "I can think of a very nice way to follow it up." Elizabeth giggled. "Oh, Diego, what can you mean? What can you possibly be thinking about after we have been so good to one another's feet?" He chuckled. "I'll show you," he said. Sheets rustled again. The bed creaked. "Oh, that," she giggled again. Their bed was a wedding gift from Alejandro. Diego still teased his beloved about how long it had taken her to get into it with him. "It is the finest bed in the world," she would cheerfully admit. "How good for both of us that I came to my senses." The high, four-poster bed was sturdy and well-made, ornately hand-carved from black African mahogany. Matilde de la Vega ordered it twenty years before after she befriended a merchant in San Pedro when Diego was a young boy. The merchant, an East-West trader who imported fine furniture and fabrics from Europe, Africa and the Far East, had shown her a number of hand-drawn images of beds made by a carpenter-artisan in Spain. Matilde leafed through the pages until she saw this one. Glancing across the street at her dark-haired, dimpled son where he watered their horses at the well, she looked back at the trader and said, "this one. I do not care how long it takes." The bed arrived two years later, when Diego was nine years old. Matilde had it assembled in a guest room. Diego watched with wonder, but on inquiring about it was told, "it will be in this room, son, for special guests." To Alejandro, privately, she said, "It will be Diego's one day, but you must save it until he has someone to share it with." True to the long view his wife had taken, Alejandro kept the bed in the guest room for 18 years. It became known in the household as "the African bed" and was considered the bed of highest honor for their most important guests. Mostly it was empty, awaiting the day when its mission would begin. Alejandro ordered the African bed moved into Diego's room while his son and Elizabeth were on their honeymoon in San Juan Capistrano. When they moved immediately into the west wing of the hacienda on return, he offered to move it to the rooms they occupied, but Diego declined. It was therefore a great satisfaction to Alejandro - and an even greater one to Diego -- once the couple took up residence in the room with the African bed a few weeks later after El Zorro's tumble over the wall during his battle with the lancers and Diablo. Since that night, when Elizabeth first lay down on the covers beside her injured husband, the African bed had become an icon in the couple's life. It was where they first explored their physical love. It was where Esperanza was born and where Elizabeth had fought back death. It was where they renewed their romantic life after the baby arrived, and where they had comforted one another as they recovered from their losses. And it was where, as Diego liked to say, "we love with abandon." Now it rocked gently, creaking lightly now and again. After a while, the African bed grew still as its occupants drifted to sleep. ****** The next morning, once they were dressed and had their breakfast, Elizabeth and Diego went to the newly-completed paddock. Maria brought Esperanza along, sitting on a hay bale with the baby. As she had for many mornings before that, Elizabeth saddled the filly and led her into the ring under her husband's watchful eye. "Today you will be a good horse," Elizabeth instructed, stroking Blanca's nose. They walked to the mounting block and Elizabeth stepped up. "Be careful, darling," Diego called to her, ready to rush into the ring. He was certain that Elizabeth was about to get tossed into the soft loam, but had given up trying to persuade her to let their vaqueros break the horse. "Mah! Mah!" Esperanza shouted. Elizabeth waved at her daughter and then looked at her husband. Then she took a deep breath and lifted her leg, sliding onto the saddle. For a moment nothing happened. Blanca simply stood there. Then she took a deep breath. Elizabeth took a handful of thick white mane, assuming she was about to be tossed around until she either jumped or was thrown off the horse. Blanca took a step away from the mounting block, and then another. Then she just stood there and gave a deep sigh. Elizabeth held her seat, waiting for the pyrotechnics to begin. Still the horse stood without moving. She leaned over and patted Blanca's neck, saying, "Good girl. Be a good girl for me." Blanca nodded her head up and down and chewed on her bit. Elizabeth glanced at Diego and shrugged. Then she looked again at her horse and squeezed her calves slightly into the mare's barrel, to nudge her to walk to the fence. Blanca tensed and bucked her rear legs slightly. Diego took a step towards them, fearful that his wife was about to go flying. Elizabeth kept her seat and spoke softly, saying "easy, easy," to her horse. Blanca settled on the ground and walked calmly to the rail. Elizabeth pulled back slightly on the reins in a half-stop, and the filly stopped. Diego stepped back against the rail again; his head shaking slightly in disbelief, a soft smile forming on his lips. Elizabeth squeezed her calves against Blanca's middle again, and the filly began walking. Slowly she walked around the ring once, then twice. After a third calm stroll around the ring, Elizabeth stopped in front of Diego, a big smile on her face. He smiled back. "Sweetheart, I believe you have the start of a fine riding horse at last," he said to her. Behind them, on the hay bale, they heard Esperanza giggle. They both turned to look at her, to see that she was clapping her hands. After this triumph, Elizabeth was on the horse every morning. After two solid weeks of daily practice and training in the ring, she and Diego took the filly, with Diego along on Padre, onto the open road. To their delight, Blanca had turned her corner. Though always spirited, she no longer tried to dislodge her rider and learned to take Elizabeth's guidance as they made their way along the dirt roads leading to and from the rancho. "It is her impending motherhood," Diego pronounced one morning, when they were speculating on what had caused her to accept her rider after so many weeks of persistent rejection. "Perhaps," Elizabeth murmured. "It takes energy, to make life." She looked at Diego. "Soon we will know." His smile was wistful. "Si, soon we will know." Chapter Two Spanish? Mexican? Another month passed. With it came the first birthday of Esperanza. Alejandro planned two parties to celebrate, one on the afternoon of the actual date in late April, to which all the children in the pueblo were invited, and the other one night later, for the family's many grown up friends who had been so supportive and kind during the baby's first year of life. "We are not going to fight," Elizabeth instructed her husband on their daughter's birthday morning. They were on the patio watching the baby as she toddled around holding tightly onto Elizabeth's hand. "Fight?" he repeated. "Why would we do that? We have not done that in...a long time." "That is true," she agreed. "But we seem to fight whenever there is a party. So I am declaring the next two days fight-free." Diego frowned. "But....can you do that?" "I am doing it," she announced. He shrugged. "All right. I can cooperate. I have no fights to pick with you." With that he grabbed the baby and put her on her seat on the ground. Then he pulled Elizabeth into his arms, bent her over in a swoop, and gave her a big kiss. "See?" he asked, keeping her bent over. "Diego!" she exclaimed, half-laughing. "Let go of me!" "Now?" he asked. She struggled to pull herself up and make him right himself. "Be kind!" she said, waving her finger at him. "I am always kind, seņora," he said, bowing to her. He leaned over and helped Esperanza back to her feet. "Don Diego!" a voice came from the gate leading to the road. "Don Diego!" The little boy Rufino came bounding in and raced up to Diego. He was breathless and barefooted. "What is it, Rufino? Why are you in such a hurry?" Diego laughed, picking Esperanza up and looking down at the boy. "The soldiers!" he cried. "They are in the pueblo!" he pointed in the direction of the plaza. "They are making the peons move their carts and they are chasing the Indians across the plaza!" He peered at the baby. "Hello, Esperanza!" "What?" Diego said, suddenly dead serious. He handed Esperanza to Elizabeth. "Are you certain, Rufino, that you are not exaggerating?" Alejandro came rushing downstairs, having heard Rufino's shouts. "It is true," Rufino said. "Don Carlos asked me to come and tell you, and to go and tell the other dons, too! And they have arrested Juan Bottega, and also his mean wife!" "Arrested Juan Bottega!" Diego exclaimed. "Who arrested him?" "The soldiers! From Mexico!" Diego looked at his father, who nodded slightly. Diego lowered himself to a squat and looked Rufino in the eye. "Listen, you must go straight to the San Gabriel mission, Rufino, and stay there with Padre Felipe. You and all the other mission children." Diego looked at Elizabeth briefly. The pueblo had a number of children who were the charges of the mission, for their parents were either unknown or unreliable. Rufino was generally considered the leader of this little gang of seven or eight. "But the Sergeant wanted me to..." "I will tell the other dons, Rufino," Alejandro told the boy. "Diego is right, you must go to the mission." "Will you do that?" Diego asked sternly. The child was famous for forgetting - some believed ignoring - instructions the moment after he had heard them. "Si, Don Diego, if you and Don Alejandro tell me to," the boy said. "But I wanted to help!" "You have helped, a great deal," Diego assured him. Now the child looked at Elizabeth. He looked again at the baby and smiled. "Happy birthday, Esperanza!" he said cheerfully. Esperanza smiled at him and gave him a tiny wave. Then she buried her face in her mother's shoulder shyly. Elizabeth looked from her daughter to the boy, and back again. A strange moment of recognition passed over her. She shook it off. "Rufino," Elizabeth said, "You must do as Don Diego has asked." "But will there still be a party this afternoon?" "I do not know," Elizabeth said, "but if there is one I promise we will make sure you are here. How can Esperanza celebrate her birthday without you?" "She can't!" he cried with glee. Then he looked at the men. "I will go to the mission now," he said. "Good," Diego stood up, patting his shoulder. "I shall loan you a pony so you can get there much faster." "A pony!" Rufino shouted, nearly leaping. "You will have to bring her back," Alejandro warned him. "I will! I will!" Elizabeth looked at her father-in-law. He was watching as Diego led the boy to the stall where a sturdy pinto pony stood munching on hay. One of the vaqueros joined them and Diego gave him instructions. He patted Rufino's shoulder again and then returned to where his family waited. "Well," he said. "Why on earth would they arrest Juan Bottega?" Alejandro asked. "What sort of way is that to take over?" His eyes widened. "What if they do this at the bank?" Diego raised his eyebrows. "I must go into the pueblo at once!" Alejandro exclaimed. "Let me go with you, Father....there may be a mix-up, if Rufino is the messenger." "That is true," Alejandro agreed. "I will have Bernardo saddle our horses." He headed for the stable, and was nearly knocked over as Rufino, already in the saddle, took his mount out onto the road. "That is no way to behave when such charity has been shown to you!" Alejandro exclaimed after him. "I am sorry Don Alejandro," the boy called over his shoulder, gouging his heels into the pony's side. Alejandro dusted himself off, and glared over at Diego. "We may never see that pony again!" he stated. Then he disappeared around the corner. Diego shook his head and chuckled. "We will see the pony again, Father," he said, despite being out of his father's earshot. "My goodness," Elizabeth said to her husband. "I think he may miss the constitutional this morning." "This will have to be a considerable emergency for that," he replied. He looked at Esperanza. "Will you let me go to town on your birthday?" he asked her playfully. "Or is it your Papito you are wondering about? We will both be home in time for your party, I promise!" "Dah," the baby said to him, waving. "She is getting that wave pretty well," he said, giving her a big, noisy kiss on the cheek. "Oh, I cannot believe you are one year old!" he told her. "How can you be that big already?" "Dah!" she said again. She clapped and giggled. "Dah." "That is right, Esperanza, that is Daddy," Elizabeth said. She looked at Diego. "I will check on how the party planning is going, and to see how Conchita is doing with the cakes and the piņata. Please be careful. I would rather have you here to fight with than not have you here at all." He grinned. "I will remind you of that next time we have a disagreement." She made a face at him and took the baby into the house. Diego went to the stable to see Apache saddled, and was soon on the way to the pueblo with his father. ****** "What?" shouted Don Eugenio Bocca, Francisco Bocca's ancient and mostly-deaf father. "What did he say?" "He said that Juan Bottega will be taken back to Mexico to serve in the army, Grandpapa!" Clementia said, trying to articulate her words without shouting back. They were standing in a crowd in front of the cuartel as the Mexican soldier beside Sergeant Garcia explained what was happening. "Mexico!" the old man exclaimed. "But...we are Spanish!" He looked around at everyone a little wildly. "We are Spanish!" he repeated, indignant. Clementia patted his arm and looked at her father helplessly. "We are turning into Mexicans a little more by the minute," Don Francisco said to his father. "What?" Don Eugenio said, as his son turned away. "What did he say?" he asked Clementia. "He said..." Clementia started and then stopped, shushing her grandfather, for she wanted to hear what the Mexican was saying next. The man was a sergeant from Iturbide's army in Mexico City. The officer who had led the small troupe of Mexican soldiers into the garrison was nowhere to be seen. "...and all able-bodied men who can serve will be called upon to do so, by the decree of the new independent republic of Mexico, beginning with men who were born in Mexico and Baja California before 1800!" "That explains them taking Bottega," Don Francisco muttered to Carlos Matteo, who was standing beside him. "Si, but why do they have his wife, too?" Don Carlos asked. He had arrived just as the ruckus in the pueblo started with the bullying of the peons in the plaza, followed by the arrest of Juan Bottega. Spying Rufino he had sent the boy along to summon the other dons. Francisco Bocca shrugged. The sergeant was shouting more pointless pronouncements about the incoming government and the glory of Generalisimo Iturbide, Mexico's new leader. Sergeant Garcia, standing there in his uniform of the Spanish army, looked decidedly uncomfortable beside his counter-part in the Mexican uniform. Don Francisco rolled his eyes and muttered, "long live the King," under his breath. Alejandro and Diego rode up just as the announcements were ending, and after dismounting walked into the crowd to find Francisco, Eugenio, and Carlos standing there with Clementia. Also on hand was Clementia's cousin, Consuelo Perez. Sergeant Garcia, looking quite dismayed, had had no choice but to follow the lieutenant back into the cuartel. Corporal Reyes, however, remained standing guard outside the garrison's now-closed gates. "What on earth is going on?" Alejandro inquired. "They have Juan Bottega and Rosaria in the jail," Clementia said. "He is going to have to go into the Mexican army!" "The army!" Diego exclaimed. "But he has to be forty years old!" "That is what the Mexican sergeant said," Clementia reported. "I do not like their uniforms," she added in a whisper. "Buenas tardes, Don Alejandro, Don Diego," Consuelo said. Diego noticed that she was wearing an especially fine blue dress with white trim around the sleeves and low-cut bodice. He glanced at his father to see that Alejandro, too, was appreciating Consuelo's dress. The men exchanged greetings with everyone, having forgotten to be polite. "What a pretty dress, Consuelo," Alejandro commented. Consuelo smiled her spectacular smile. "Thank you, Don Alejandro," she said, sounding demure. "And they have Rosaria?" Diego said, deciding to ignore the little flirtation between his father and Clementia's cousin. "Why?" "She insulted the lieutenant," Corporal Reyes volunteered. They all looked at the corporal and went over to him. "I am on duty," he told them, standing a little straighter. "And they jailed her?" Alejandro asked. Reyes nodded solemnly. "They put a lot of peons in jail, too." Diego frowned. "Why?" Reyes shrugged. "The Mexicans don't explain when they put peons in jail, Don Diego." "Neither did the Spaniards," Diego muttered. "The Mexicans are in jail now?" Don Eugenio shouted. "No, Grandpapa, they put everyone else in jail," Clementia said back loudly. "Is there a new commandante?" Diego asked. Reyes shook his head. "I don't think so, Don Diego." He stared at the ground. " Just a lieutenant. I do not think you will like him." Diego looked at his father, raising his eyebrows. "Does that mean we have to go to jail?" Don Eugenio asked Clementia. She shook her head, waving him to be quiet. "Well," Alejandro said, "perhaps we can have a conversation with this lieutenant and find out what is truly going on." "Good idea," said Don Francisco. "Too bad Benicio is not still here," Diego mused. "He knows some of these Mexicans, perhaps he would know this lieutenant." He looked at Francisco. "Is he still at Rancho Verbena, do you know?" Don Francisco shrugged. "Since he was 14 I have not known where my son was unless he was right in front of me. I have not seen him since he spent the night with us right after Monastario drowned. He left the next morning and..." he shrugged again. Diego nodded. "All right then," he said. "Father, let us see if we can find out exactly who is in the jail and what this lieutenant is up to." He strode past Reyes and lifted his hand to knock on the gate. "Very well," Alejandro sighed. "But we cannot belabor this, we have Esperanza's party to prepare!" "Tell Demetrio I will hold his lunch for him," Clementia called after Diego. Alejandro joined his son. The gate swung open slowly, and the others watched as the two de la Vegas disappeared into the cuartel yard. Then the gate again closed. "Are they going to jail, too?" Don Eugenio shouted at Clementia. ****** Sergeant Garcia saw the de la Vegas coming and gulped, knowing that he was about to be caught between the will of the lieutenant from Mexico and two men he respected enormously. "Don Diego, Don Alejandro," he said, hoping to head off a crisis. He stepped from the commandante's office porch and greeted the two men with a wave. "You must have arrived after the announcement!" "Si, Sergeant," Alejandro said, looking around. "Is the lieutenant here? Diego and I would like to have a word with him." "He is here, but I do not think he wants to see any...." he gulped, "civilians." "Oh, he thinks we are an inconvenience, does he?!" Alejandro snapped. Diego put his hand on his father's shoulder, trying to calm him. "Sergeant," he interceded, "will you go and tell the lieutenant that two citizens of his new territory would like an opportunity to learn more about the fate our new government is handing us?" Garcia frowned, working through Diego's long sentence slowly. "Oh!" he finally said. "Si, Don Diego, I will tell him." He turned and disappeared into the commander's office, not bothering to knock since it had been, up until that morning, his office for the last six months. Diego and Alejandro waited. A minute passed. Then another. Then another. Finally, after five minutes, Garcia re-emerged. He looked even less happy than he had before. "He cannot see you now," he said. "Cannot see us!" Alejandro exclaimed. "Why not?" "He is....busy," the Sergeant answered. Then he lowered his voice. "Eating his lunch," he said quietly. "Pah!" Alejandro said, reaching for the door. "Father, do not aggravate the situation," Diego said, grabbing for his father's arm. "Juan Bottega and Rosaria are in the jail! Are we to stand for this?" he asked his son. Sergeant Garcia stood back, not wishing to be caught in the middle of a display of temperamental disagreement between the de la Vegas. He folded his hands and began rocking back and forth on his heels, trying to look busy. "We must get off to a reasonable start with these Mexicans!" Diego said. "Is it not their job to show a reasonable nature in taking over California?!" Alejandro fumed. "We did not invite them here!" "No, the King of Spain handed us over to them," Diego pointed out. "The treaty is signed. We do not have any choice in this matter. Unlike Americas, California is not a democracy." "Well, so much for the King of Spain!" Alejandro exclaimed. "Democracy is looking better and better all the time! I am going to go over to the bank and make sure everything is all right there....while the lieutenant finishes his lunch!" He glared at the office door for a moment and then marched away. Diego watched him go, smiling in spite of himself, and then looked across the cuartel yard at the jail. He could see the Bottegas sitting mournfully on a bench on the wrong side of the bars. "Perhaps I shall go and see if I can cheer up Juan and Rosaria," he told Garcia. "I am sure they would appreciate it, Don Diego," the Sergeant replied. "Won't you join me?" "No, I had better stay here, in case the lieutenant wants something." He sighed. "They are going to make us wear Mexican uniforms. And fly the Mexican flag." Diego did a double take, realizing how much those steps would make the changeover seem real. "Will that happen right away?" Diego asked. "When the flags and the uniforms get here," Garcia sighed. "Which will be soon." "But you will still have your job as a soldier, won't you, Sergeant?" Garcia frowned. "I think so," he said uncertainly. He glanced in the direction of the other Sergeant, who was standing in front of the stable directing some soldiers in mucking out the stalls. Diego patted his arm encouragingly. "I am sure you will," he said. He started for the jail, but then stopped and looked back at Garcia. "Oh, Sergeant?" he said. "Si, Don Diego?" "Have you heard if the ships are still sailing up the coast?" "Si, as far as I know." Diego nodded. "Good." Garcia frowned. "Are you expecting someone?" "Not yet," Diego smiled. With that, he turned and strode to the jail. "Get up, it is Don Diego!" Rosaria said to her husband, rising to her feet as Diego approached. Juan Bottega got to his feet. "Hello, Don Diego," he said. "How are Doņa Elizabeth and Esperanza?" "They are fine, Juan," Diego answered, "thank you for asking. But why are you here? What has caused this?" Bottega shrugged. "I was born in Mexico, and they want me to put on a uniform." "Hah!" his wife said. Then she curtsied to Diego. "But aren't you a little too old for that?" Diego asked. Bottega took a step back, shaking his head. Diego frowned. "What are you saying?" he asked. "Juan?" "Don Diego!" Sergeant Garcia called to him from the office porch. "The lieutenant will see you now!" Diego looked from the innkeeper to his wife and back. Bottega lifted his hands helplessly. "I was born under the wrong stars," he said. His wife snorted and sat back down on the bench in the jail cell. Diego frowned, feeling that there was more to this story. Perhaps the new lieutenant could enlighten him. He turned and strode across the garrison yard. Chapter Three Sergeant Nephew "Enterrrrrrr!" The voice came from beyond the door after Diego knocked. Frowning, Diego opened the door. He was greeted with a sight that made his eyes widen and his mouth open slightly. "Surrrrrprrrrised, de la Vega?" asked the man seated at the desk, his sumptuous lunch spread out before him. "Capitan Vilaro!" Diego exclaimed, trying to recover from this unexpected turn of events as he stepped into the room. "Or, should I say, Lieutenant Vilaro?" "The Mexicans are stingy with their commissions!" the former Captain snarled, taking a large bite of the leg of duck fin his hand. "And I suppose they must be rather desperate for officers!" Diego observed. Vilaro glared at him. "Oh, excuse me!" Diego said hurriedly, "that is not what I meant! I only meant that General Iturbide is only now building his new army and he must need experienced men! How fortunate that you were available. I am sure it will only be a short while before you will be restored to the rank you held in the Spanish Army." He bowed slightly. "Welcome back to Los Angeles." At this moment, after a quick knock, Alejandro entered the room. He gasped on seeing Vilaro sitting at the desk. "You!" he exclaimed. He looked at what was on Vilaro's plate. "Senorrrrr de la Vega the seniorrrrrr," Vilaro said slowly, still chewing his duck. Alejandro thought of Esperanza and their visit to the pond, seeing the roasted duck on the platter. "It seems that the Mexican army is not above hiring Spain's rejects," Diego said softly to his father. "What did you say?" Vilaro asked. "I was telling my father of the Mexican army's good fortune to engage your services!" Diego said. Alejandro suppressed a smile. Then he asked, "And are you to be our permanent commandante?" Vilaro pushed his chair back and stood up. "All those decisions are still pending," he answered. "At the moment, the army is still being mustered." "Which is why you want Juan Bottega," Alejandro said. "Si...." Vilaro replied, coming around the desk. "Do you know, Don Alejandrrrrro, that Juan Bottega is not rrrrreally Juan Bottega?" Alejandro frowned. "He has owned the Tavern and Inn of this pueblo for seven years! We all know him and his wife well!" Vilaro shook his head. "He is not who you think he is," he stated. The two men waited for more information. Vilaro simply sat there looking smug. "Well, then, if he is not who we think he is, who is he?" Diego asked. Vilaro shook his head again. "All in good time, gentlemen." He returned to his seat and resumed his lunch. After a moment he glanced up at the de la Vegas. "Is therrrrre anything else?" he asked. Diego and his father exchanged a look. "This is not about the bank, is it?" Alejandro asked, mindful of Vilaro's failed effort to prevent the establishment of the First Bank of Los Angeles during the previous autumn. Vilaro waved his hand dismissively. Diego took his father's elbow, trying to nudge him towards the door. "We shall leave you to your lunch, then," Diego said. "But we will be back!" Alejandro added. Diego continued nudging his father out the door and pulled it shut behind him. "Will you let go of me!?" Alejandro said indignantly, shaking Diego's hand off his arm. "There is nothing we can do here at the moment," Diego said quietly, his eyes scanning the garrison yard carefully. Sergeant Garcia was standing by the jail with Corporal Reyes. They were having a conversation with Juan Bottega, who stood inside the bars across from them while Rosaria sat on the bench in the cell. "If this is about recruiting all men born in Mexico I do not know why the jail is not full!" Alejandro continued. "We have Mexicans all over Los Angeles!" "Exactly," Diego said, his voice still low. He took a deep breath. "I suppose I should send Bernardo to see Father Felipe, to let him know it is safe for Rufino and the children to leave the mission and come to Esperanza's party this afternoon. The emergency does not seem to extend very deeply into the community." "Aiiiyyy!" Alejandro said, holding his hand to his forehead. "What?" Diego asked, alarmed. "They are supposed to help with Esperanza's party tonight!" Alejandro exclaimed. "Who?" "Juan and Rosaria! They were to help with serving! Aiiiyyyy! Conchita will be furious! We do not want to be short-handed tonight!" Diego smiled. "Father," he said, patting Alejandro's shoulder. "I understand your fear of letting Conchita down, but we have plenty of servants who will help with both parties. I do not believe there is anything more we can do here at the moment....though it may be necessary for El Zorro to give Phantom a good ride tonight, and pay a little visit on our old, and possibly new, commandante." Alejandro smiled at his son. ***** "Vilaro!" Elizabeth exclaimed. She put Esperanza down on her bed and then turned to her husband. Esperanza whimpered, causing Elizabeth to turn back to the baby for a moment. She sat on the chair beside Esperanza's bed. "You are sleepy, muchacha" she told her. "When you wake up we will have your party! Rufino is coming and Bernardo will do some of his tricks for you." She leaned over and rubbed the baby's back. "That is my sweet girl," she said softly. Esperanza relaxed under her mother's touch. Elizabeth looked again at her husband, standing in Esperanza's bedroom door. "Diego, how do you know he has not remembered who you are?!" Diego shrugged. "I don't! But it is not my choice as to who the Mexicans send to represent their government." "I do not like it," she stated. She continued rubbing Esperanza's back for a moment; until she was satisfied the baby was asleep. Then she got up and pushed Diego out of the doorway, pulling it shut behind her. They stood on the balcony overlooking the patio. Servants were busy with setting up more tables and hanging lanterns for the evening fete. Conchita appeared in the doorway to supervise briefly. She had a spatula in her hand. "I do not like it either," Diego said. "Nor do I like the mystery around Juan Bottega. I believe it is a mystery that Zorro will need to investigate. Something very strange is going on." Elizabeth sighed. "On Esperanza's birthday?" she complained. "Why can you not wait until tomorrow, or the day after that?" He faced her, putting his hands on her shoulders. "You declared no fights," he reminded her. "I did not imagine you would be going out on the night of our baby's first birthday!" she said. "I will go out after the party is over and she will never know I left," he said softly. "No, but her mother will," Elizabeth said, raising an eyebrow. "No fights," Diego repeated, wagging a finger at her. Elizabeth bit at his finger. "Bad wife," he said to her. "Bad husband," she replied. Diego pulled her into his arms and gave her a kiss on the temple. "I shall give you more of these tonight if you wait up for me," he whispered to her. He ran his finger gently down her cheek. "I always wait up for you now. And you will have to do better than kisses on my head!" she whispered back. Diego chuckled, giving her a squeeze. "Then I suppose I shall have to conserve some of my energy rather than expending it all on Esperanza's party and Zorro's ride." "I suppose." She nipped at his finger again. ****** The party for Esperanza and the local children began after Esperanza's nap. Father Felipe, receiving the "all clear" from Bernardo, brought a wagonload from the mission himself. Rufino followed on the pony Diego had loaned him. The group was largely made up of Rufino's little gang, shepherded by a young French friar named Brother Anselm. He had arrived at the mission of San Gabriel only recently and none of the adults of the pueblo knew him particularly well. However, he was quite well known to the children, all of whom believed he was Sergeant Garcia's nephew. The reasoning behind this was simple: he was quite large around the middle, and much too young to be the Sergeant's brother. Elizabeth greeted all of the children at the patio gate. Welcoming them in, they scattered quickly among the tables and under the piņata dangling from a low branch of the fig tree. Rufino began batting at it with his hands, though it was a foot above where he could reach with a jump. The piņata had arrived that morning, a gift from Don Carlos for his granddaughter. It was a large, heavy, donkey-looking paper animal in bright fluttering stripes of red, yellow, green, and orange. Bernardo had hung it from a branch of the fig tree shortly before the children arrived, under the strict supervision of Don Alejandro. Diego watched with amusement, pointing out to his father that at age one, and barely able to stand up on her own, Esperanza was hardly going to be able to give her own piņata a whack with a stick as long as she was. "The other children will do it for her!" Alejandro insisted. "A little to the right, Bernardo." The servant adjusted it. "That is fine," Alejandro said. "And you do not think that whomever breaks it will want the treasures inside?" Diego asked. "She should have her own piņata!" "Father, I think the piņata will belong to the child who breaks it open," Diego insisted. "And that will probably be Rufino." Alejandro growled. Indeed, when the children arrived, it was Rufino who spied and went for the piņata immediately. "I think not!" Brother Anselm said, grabbing the boy by the hair. "Ow! Ow!" Rufino yowled. "What is this?" Elizabeth asked, hearing the noise and hurrying over to them. She eyed the children for a moment, and then said, "all of you, go over to the stable to see the horses. Moneta, you know the way, lead everyone over to see the new paddock." Moneta grinned at Elizabeth. All seven children, excepting Rufino, turned and scampered to the gateway leading to the stable. "The piņata is very tempting," Brother Anselm said, a lock of Rufino's hair still pinched between his fingers. The boy was trying desperately to wiggle out from under the monk's tight grip. "But you do not need to pull his hair!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "Garcia's nephew is killing me, Doņa Elizabeth!" Rufino shouted, struggling under the friar's grip. "I am not Garcia's nephew! I am Brother Anselm and you know it!" the young man exclaimed in great exasperation. "And you will not destroy the piņata before the party even begins!" "Help, Doņa Elizabeth!" Rufino wailed. "I will not break the piņata early! Sergeant Nephew is tearing my head off!" "I am doing no such thing! And stop calling me 'Sergeant Nephew!'" Elizabeth put her hands on her hips. "Both of you!" she exclaimed. "This is a party! It is not the Inquisition! Brother, please let go of his hair!" Reluctantly the friar did so, but not before muttering something to the boy in French. Rufino made a face at him. Elizabeth grabbed Rufino's shoulders faster than he could wriggle away. "I will tie you up and leave you in the wine cellar and save NO sweets for you if you misbehave," she warned him. "And do not put anyone else up to mischief either!" "Where is Esperanza?" Rufino asked, trying to evade her instructions. "She is still asleep," Elizabeth answered, loosening her grip on him. "Do you understand me, Rufino?" "Si Seņora, I will be good this afternoon," he promised, his eyes bright. Elizabeth and Padre Felipe were the only people in the pueblo that he was consistently eager to please, though he famously liked Diego and Don Alejandro. "And you will help Don Diego with the singing shortly," Elizabeth instructed. "He is going to teach all of you a little song to sing for Esperanza when she is brought down from her nap." "We will sing like the pretty birds, seņora," he assured her, his brown eyes twinkling. "And thank you for saving me from Sergeant Nephew!" With that he bolted away, rushing to the table covered with food that was already under the eager gaze of most of the children present. Elizabeth watched as the boy ran towards the stableyard, momentarily haunted by the way the child had just looked at her. Something about his smile and sparkling dark eyes rang a bell deep inside her, but she could not place it. This feeling had come over her before with Rufino, but never so strongly. It had whispered to her earlier this morning when the boy appeared with the news about Juan Bottega and Diego had sent him off on the pinto pony. What is it about him? she asked herself. Brother Anselm snorted, watching Rufino race away. Elizabeth sighed, and looked at the fat young friar. "You are new to our community, Brother," she said. "I think you have not yet learned how to manage some of our more lively personalities." "Rufino is at the mission every day, Seņora," he replied. "He is well known to us. And he knows I am not the Sergeant's nephew!" "And do you pull his hair every day?" Elizabeth asked, her eyebrows rising. "He has a great deal of energy," Brother Anselm replied. "Si, but I do not believe that trying to yank it out of the top of his head will get you the desired results," she stated. Brother Anselm looked down at his sandals, though he could not see them beneath his billowing robe. It was his first direct encounter with Seņora de la Vega, of whom he had heard a great deal from many. He had been variously told that she was both sweet and strong, but had not anticipated someone quite so pretty in addition. "Any suggestions you have would be most welcome," he said humbly. "I suggest that you try to befriend him," Elizabeth said. She looked up to see that Alejandro was entering Esperanza's room to ascertain if she was awake. She looked back at Brother Anselm sternly. "He is a good boy if you treat him with affection and make sure he is not snookering you at every turn. He admires being held to account, but not through physical force. His mother was an Indian girl who disappeared when he was three, and we do not know who his father was, though you can see it was not an Indian. We assume it was a Spanish soldier who has returned to Spain, taking no responsibility for the family he left behind." "Si, Seņora." "So it is right to be kind to this child, Brother, for he is a part of our community and we seek to honor the Blessed Mother through our kindness to fatherless peon children and the Indians." "Si, Seņora." Elizabeth's demeanor shifted, having made her speech, and she smiled. "Now, with your permission, I must see to my little birthday girl. I hope you enjoy our party for her. And Brother Anselm." "Si, Seņora?" "You may call me Doņa Elizabeth." "Thank you...Doņa Elizabeth," he nodded, and watched as she headed up the stairs. "Formidable," he muttered in his native French. He turned around to return to the paddock, and literally walked into Diego. Diego jumped back in rapid reaction, holding his guitar up to protect it from falling or other collision. Once the guitar was secure, Diego looked down at the monk, his eyebrows raised. "Si, she is formidable," he agreed. "Oh, Don Diego, pardon me," the friar said, embarrassed. "I am sorry to run into you, and I meant no insult to your wife." Diego smiled. "No offense taken," he said. "But she is right, you know. Tearing at Rufino's hair will not inspire him to behave." "It is how I was managed in school," the friar said, "and it taught me great discipline." Diego eyed the rotund young man up and down, but refrained from immediate comment. Then he said, "I think perhaps we are a gentler people here in Los Angeles." He smiled again. "Would you like to come with me? I am going to teach the children a little song to sing for my daughter." He nodded his head in the direction of the stable. "They learn very quickly, you know," he said, starting to walk in that direction. Brother Anselm followed. "Yes, I have discovered that they can learn quickly indeed, when they are motivated," he agreed. Diego laughed. "Don't we all?" he asked. They stepped into the stableyard, to be immediately spotted by Rufino. The children were clustered around Bernardo, who was doing magic tricks with a gold coin on a chain. "Don Diego!" Rufino shouted, running over to them. He ignored Brother Anselm entirely. "Buenos tardes, Rufino," Diego said. "Are you ready to learn a new song?" "Si, I promised Doņa Elizabeth I would help everyone learn it, so I must learn it too," Rufino said. He leaned up to Diego, saying quietly, "Perhaps you should teach it to me first." Diego frowned. "Do you think so?" he asked. "But I can teach it to everyone at the same time, it is a round, and very easy to sing." "Can I play your guitar?" Rufino asked, reaching for it. Moneta came over to join them. Diego held it up high enough that the boy could not reach it. "Do you remember what happened the last time I let you hold my guitar?" he asked. Rufino's hands came down in momentary defeat. "You broke it!" Moneta stated. Brother Anselm looked at Rufino in horror. "You broke Don Diego's guitar?" he repeated. "He breaks everything, sooner or later," Moneta said. She looked at the boy. "You will break a bridge some day," she told him. "I will break you some day," Rufino replied matter-of-factly. Moneta looked up at Diego, her eyes watering. Rufino returned his attention to Diego, ignoring her. "What happened to Juan Bottega, is he still in jail, Don Diego?" he asked. "Rufino, that was not a nice thing to say to Moneta!" Diego scolded. "A gentleman would not tell a lady such a thing! You must apologize to her." "But I will never be a gentleman, Don Diego," Rufino said. "You will be if you decide to be," Diego said. "And it is a decision you should make, for your own sake and the sake of California. Now you must apologize to her, before we learn the new song." Rufino frowned. He stamped one foot in the dirt, causing dust to rise. "Go on," Diego said insistently. He sighed loudly. "I am sorry," the boy said to Moneta, his eyes on the ground. "Look at her when you say it, Rufino." Rufino looked at his constant companion and said, "I am sorry, Moneta. I will not do what I said." He sighed again. "You are my friend." Moneta half-smiled at him, and then looked up at Diego, unsure what to do. "You may forgive him now, Moneta, that is the kind thing to do. He does seem to be sincere. And once you have forgiven him, you must neither of you ever bring it up again, for it is behind you. It is in the nature of forgiveness to forget that a bad thing occurred." He nodded at Moneta. "I forgive you, Rufino," she said softly. She looked at him, blinked, and then looked at her shoes. "To be truly gentlemanly you must kiss her hand and thank her for being merciful," Diego instructed, taking the lesson a step further. Rufino scowled. Diego opened his mouth to press his point, but an interruption occurred as Bernardo came up to them, followed by the other children. He looked at Diego quizzically, and motioned the playing of the guitar. Then he pointed in the direction of the hacienda. "Si, si, they will come and we will not have our song ready," Diego agreed. "Children, we must go over to the stable and sit on the hay bales that Bernardo has set out, and I will teach you a pretty round to sing for Esperanza." He eyed Rufino. "We are not finished with our lesson on gentlemanly behavior," he said. Then he led the way to the stable. Moneta and Rufino stared at one another, and then joined the others, setting themselves as far apart in the group as possible. Brother Anselm watched it all and shook his head. He leaned against the paddock fence rail, observing as Diego and Bernardo organized the children on the hay bale and then joined them. His eyes wandered. It was his first visit to the de la Vega rancho, though he had heard about it from the day he arrived in Los Angeles. So much wealth, he thought, looking at the stableyard, the newly-installed paddock, the numerous fine horses munching hay in their stalls. He knew from Padre Felipe that the de la Vegas were very generous to the Church, yet all the material prosperity evident just in seeing their stables indicated how truly well they lived. Coming from a large family of French stonemasons, he had observed great wealth in his native Loire Valley. He never imagined he would encounter it in the new world. But neither had he anticipated so much sunshine, in the weather nor with the people. He was as yet unaccustomed to the friendliness and easy approach to life that the Californianos took, even as their government was changing hands. It was all a great mystery. But the food and the wine were very, very good. "Enjoying handing all the children off to someone else for a little while?" a cheerful male voice broke his reflection. "Padre!" Brother Anselm said, hearing the voice of his superior. "I did not think you would get here so soon." Padre Felipe smiled, watching as Diego began teaching the children the round. "It is very unlikely I can get here tonight for the party with all of the adults, so I felt I should come now. I officiated at Diego and Elizabeth's wedding, and I baptized Esperanza, you know. So I feel a duty as well as a joyful call to be here to celebrate her first year of life. She is an especially beloved baby here in a pueblo that delights in its children." He eyed the young man. "Even Rufino." "It seems excessive," the younger man said slowly. "To celebrate a baby's first birthday with quite so much...." "Ah, then, you do not yet know Los Angeles," came the reply. "And you surely do not know the de la Vegas." He listened for a moment. "What a pretty song," he said, as Diego finished his initial singing and then began teaching the children the words and tune. "I am sure Diego composed it himself. He is quite talented, really, though his talents are sometimes lost on his fellow Angelinos." He smiled at Brother Anselm. "Do you know, how we are called out of the world and into the church, accepting our vows of poverty and chastity as part of our calling to love and serve God?" Brother Anselm looked at him, startled. "Si?" he said. Padre Felipe looked back at Diego. "He is an example of a young man who found his calling in family life. It has transformed him. You will understand when you see him with Esperanza." "I think he is afraid of his wife," Brother Anselm said quietly. Padre Felipe smiled gently. "We all are," he said. Then he added, "But we all know that she is, beneath all of her strength, a woman who brought great light and love into a household that had been dark and sad for many years. She, too, is fulfilling her calling. We are all better for having Doņa Elizabeth in our pueblo," he looked again over at Alejandro's son, "especially Don Diego." "I am not sure I will ever understand some things," the younger man said. "None of us will," replied the older priest cheerfully. "But that does not mean we cannot serve the Lord with gladness, and enjoy a little birthday party now and again." "They call me 'Sergeant Nephew,'" the Brother said mournfully. "Oh, do not let such a small thing worry you," Padre Felipe replied. "They have called me much worse than that." "But I bear no resemblance to the Sergeant!" he protested in exasperation. Padre Felipe looked the young man up and down, and wisely refrained from comment.